


Welcome to East of Heaven

by popsicletheduck



Series: East of Heaven Farm and Orchard [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (mentioned but not used), Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Guns, Injury, They own a farm, and they have breakfast and it's nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsicletheduck/pseuds/popsicletheduck
Summary: Patton's family is thicker than blood and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Sleep | Remy
Series: East of Heaven Farm and Orchard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715797
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Welcome to East of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Ask blog open! Come give us a visit at [@ts-monster-hunter-au](https://ts-monster-hunter-au.tumblr.com/).

The sun is just rising over the hills as Patton drives up the narrow, winding roads and he smiles. Sunrise had always been his favorite time of the day, even if he’d been awake the entire night before. Things just felt better under a blue sky and a fresh start.

From the passenger seat next to him, Roman groans, trying to hide his face from the golden light streaming in the window. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can, kiddo, soon enough, I just want Remy to look you over first. Concussions aren’t something to just brush off.”

Grumbling, Roman curled up in the seat again. Patton did feel sorry for him. Ghosts could throw objects with, well,  _ supernatural _ force. Even getting clipped by their projectiles hurt. But Roman had even managed to get a blast off at the poltergeist after getting hit. He’d certainly come a long way since they’d found him.

Lost in memories, they’re at the gate almost before Patton realizes it.  _ East of Heaven Farm and Orchard,  _ the painted and carved wooden sign proclaims next to what looks like a simple wooden gate. He stops the car, prepared to get out to open it, when a shaggy head of dark hair pops up from behind the hawthorn. Virgil gives a short two finger salute before unlocking the gate and shoving it open.

Patton pulls up alongside him, rolling down the window. “You’re up and about early.”

“There were some wards I wanted to check before the sun rose,” Virgil says with a shrug. “How’d the hunt go? Everyone okay?”

“Do I look okay?” Roman says indignant at the same time Patton says, “Roman got a bit smacked around but everyone’s alright.”

Virgil grinned at Roman’s pout. “Forget to duck, Princey?”

“No!”

“He ducked the table but forgot to watch out for its legs,” Patton admitted.

“Rookie mistake,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Roman mumbles, “You couldn’t’ve done better.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. Hey Pat, since you’re here anyway, think you could give me a ride to the house?”

“Sure thing, hop in!”

The orchards are always pretty, Patton thinks, but they’re prettiest in the spring. The trees aren’t quite to blossom yet, but the leaves are unfurling to fresh, bright green and the buds promise beauty to come. In the early morning light, the orchards really are lovely. Patton takes a breath and it feels like  _ home _ .

At the end of the dirt drive Patton carefully pulls into the garage, an eye out for any stray kids, cats, or dogs as he does so. Old George is sleeping on the porch, a sprawled out lump of black cat, but beyond that the big white farmhouse seems quiet, wisteria vines shifting in the breeze. Parking the car, Patton unlocks the trunk and pulls out a heavy canvas bag out of the back. Throwing it over his shoulder, he surveys the yard. The house is an old fashioned thing, pointed gable roof and wide, wraparound porch. His mom’s roses haven’t come in yet, but the wisteria are starting to bloom. Logan has told him it wasn’t really wise to leave the wisteria growing over the porch roof, but his mom had loved it and he couldn’t bear to dig it up. Distantly he can hear the chickens and the goats. A pretty picture postcard view.

For a moment, at least, until Pumpkin the golden retriever comes dashing around the corner, followed by Valerie carefully carrying a bucketful of eggs, followed by little Thomas toddling along after his older sister.

“Good morning!” Patton calls, offering Roman a shoulder to lean on as he climbs out of the car. Roman waves him off, but Patton keeps an eye on him anyway.

“Morning!” Valerie calls back. “I’ve got eggs for Remy.”

“Eggs!” Thomas echos, holding up the two eggs clutched in his chubby toddler fists.

“Good job, kiddos. Now why don’t we all get inside for breakfast?”

When Roman does stumble trying to get up the steps to the porch, Patton is too far away, shepherding the little kids, but Virgil is right there to catch him, a hand on his arm and a raised eyebrow.

“Okay there, prince charming?” And the nickname is teasing but Virgil’s tone is carefully concerned.

“Fine, fine, just tripped over a loose board or something.”

It’s a weak excuse when everyone knows that between Patton, Logan, and Virgil there isn’t a loose board on the whole property, but Virgil lets him have it anyway.

Their little menagerie makes its way inside where colorful rag rugs lay across wood floors and scatterings of plastic toys decorate overstuffed armchairs. Squeaky and Chonky are both lounging on their cat tree, and Squeaky greets them with high pitched meow that gave her her name. Lumpy is nowhere to be seen, likely still sleeping tucked away in some nook. Thomas gets distracted halfway through and Patton has to intervene to stop egg from getting dropped onto the floor. But they all make it back to the large kitchen, where Remy is leaning against the counter, sipping from his giant mug emblazoned with a swirly, glittery  _ Bitch _ . Next to him, Joan is bent over, peering into the oven. Across the countertops is a mess of flour, dirty measuring cups, and batter-smeared bowls.

“Mornin’, babes. Everything go alright with the ghostie, Pops?”

“Roman got smacked on the head a bit, so if you could just give him a look over?”

“Sure, sure, just keep an eye on breakfast while I’m gone, ‘kay? We’ve got muffins in the oven and I was going to do some eggs with ‘em.”

Joan looks up then. “ _ I _ made muffins,” they clarify.

“Joan made muffins. Now, Roman, sweets, why don’t we go take a seat, yeah?” Remy leads Roman back into the living room, a stream of mostly nonsense following him back into the kitchen.

“Virgil?” Patton asks, shifting the bag on his shoulder. The kids know, of course, but he hates forcing any reminder on them of what most of the family does when they’re not on the farm.

Virgil nods. “If Logan’s down there, drag him up for breakfast. I swear, that nerd would forget to eat entirely if we didn’t remind him.”

Down the hallways and its row of doors. Some stand halfway open, showing peeks of an office, Valerie’s room, Thomas and Joan’s room. Several are closed, but Patton knows exactly the one he’s headed for. He could find the basement in the pitch dark. Could and has, in the past.

Digging out a key from the bag, Patton unlocks the door, steps inside, and locks it behind him. Of all the house rules, that was the one everyone followed: the basement door stays locked, always.

After the country disorganization upstairs, the basement is almost startlingly modern, even after all these years. Cream painted wood walls give way to straight concrete, rugs to bare flooring. Down the stairs and then the whole of the basement stretched out. When it had just been Patton and his dad, the basement had been a bit of a mess. But with Logan around, it had become spartanly organized. Weapons line the wall, rows of handguns and shotguns and knives, each in a specific spot, and Patton carefully returns the ones in his bag to their spots. Drawers labeled “ _ Handgun Bullets _ ” and “ _ Shotgun Shells _ ”. Stacks of industrial sized bags of rock salt. Bookcases of old, leather bound tomes and modern paperbacks and rows of multicolored folders. Shelves of herbs and crystals and candles and bones and rolls of embroidered sigils. One whole section of wall is dedicated to maps, of several ages and magnifications, marked with pins and pens and red marker.

At the opposite end of the long room is a spread of several computers and monitors. Roman and Virgil have laughingly called it a supervillain set-up before, but the programs they run are Logan’s pride and joy. Logan himself is currently sitting in front of them, gaze flicking back and forth between two different articles.

“Morning, Lo.”

Logan looks up. “Patton. Good morning. I trust the hunt went well?”

“Another spirit sent off to the great beyond. But now it’s time for breakfast. Joan made muffins.”

“Ah. Yes.” Leaving everything running, Logan stands up from behind the desk. “Oh, Emile called not long after you left yesterday. He, Dee, and Remus are in the area and will be stopping by ‘soon’, although with the three of them, soon could mean anywhere between the next week and next month.”

Patton fights back the urge to sigh. “I suppose we should wait until Roman has gotten over his concussion to tell him that his brother is coming.”

“That would likely be wise. But I believe everything can wait until after breakfast.”

Seven of them all around the big kitchen table, loaded with eggs and fruit and oatmeal and Joan’s muffins. Patton hadn’t taken the leaves out of the table for years now, and that is just the way he likes it. The house is full of Virgil and Remy’s playful bickering, the kids’ chattering, Logan’s factual ramblings. Roman is sleeping off his concussion on Remy’s advice, but he’ll be back to singing and dramatically posing soon. And then guests too…

Patton’s house is full, and his heart is too.


End file.
